Revolution Poem #1
The most powerful weapon on Earth is a soul set ablaze.—Ferdinand Foch
———————-
They tried.
They tried to make us believe we were cursed, inferior, destined for suffering,
That this suffering was the price of our existence—
They demanded we justify our pain,
Promising that perhaps a prayer could soothe our cursed anguish.
Suffering, cursed suffering.
They tried…
They told us to close our eyes, and in the moment we reopened them,
All our resources were gone.
But they did not know that, in the ashes of their delusions,
Still burned a force they could never extinguish.
Not without reckoning with the resilience and courage of my people—
A people of ebony, children of the sun.
Resource.
An infinite resource within our souls, within our hearts.
A resource of dignity no tyrant can ever steal,
For we carry a light stronger than their darkness.
The fire of justice, the fire of change, the fire of revolution, the fire of progress—
It still burns within us: untamed, unquenchable.
We are the heirs of those who refused to bow.
We are the flame that consumes oppression.
And our cry echoes through time: liberty, dignity, unity.
The fire of justice, the fire of change, the fire of revolution, the fire of progress—
It is not just a memory; it is a promise.
A promise that our hands shape every single day.
Look at our lands, our souls, our dreams:
They rise anew, proud and powerful, like ebony under the sun.
The fire of justice, the fire of change, the fire of revolution, the fire of progress—
It ascends like a song, a beacon in the darkness.
We are the embers beneath the ash, the volcano beneath the mountain.
People of ebony, children of the sun,
We march, invincible, toward a horizon where suffering surrenders to hope.
